


A Cord of Three Strands

by Neila_Nuruodo, Sheshaventures



Series: Tapestry [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ascians (Final Fantasy XIV), Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Soul Bond, Soul Damage, Soul Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25720279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neila_Nuruodo/pseuds/Neila_Nuruodo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheshaventures/pseuds/Sheshaventures
Summary: One connection branches to form another, and another, until in their unity something more beautiful and terrible than ever before emerges. Together they are stronger than the sum of their parts.
Relationships: Elidibus/Lahabrea, Elidibus/Nabriales (Final Fantasy XIV), Igeyorhm/Lahabrea (Final Fantasy XIV), Lahabrea/Nabriales (Final Fantasy XIV), Nabriales/Igeyorhm
Series: Tapestry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643011
Kudos: 13





	1. Darning

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation from Two Shall Withstand. This begins right where - for the most part - the previous story left off!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darning: A technique for repairing holes or worn areas in fabric or knitting using needle and thread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introspection can mend.

The silence that creeps into the room is a warm one. Peaceful and full; not complete stillness, for the rhythmic breathing of the two unsundered Ascians makes a soft blanket of low sound. The noise is more calming than utter silence would be. For a time Nabriales sits, looking over the pair as they sink deeper into healing rest. The tranquility is absolute, and it occurs to him that he might allow himself to doze at the Emissary’s side. Indeed, there is no reason not to; his protective attitude is born from worry and affection, not a risk of present danger.

A contented sigh gusts from him as he releases the watchful clench deep within, tension leaving his frame as he drapes, almost boneless, closer to Elidibus's flank. His head falls to that beckoning shoulder, his neck bending to dip below the spiky pauldron and rest on unadorned cloth. He takes a deep breath, his nose wrinkling as the soft spice of Elidibus's scent is marred by ozone - the cloying reminder of lingering damage. He frowns, settling lower in careful movements until his nose no longer presses close to scorched fabric.

He sighs, trying to recapture the feeling of contented calm, but it evades him, slippery. He takes a deep, controlled breath; another. His chest feels tight, stress banding it and stealing his air. He raises a hand to rub at his face, realizes his palms have begun to sweat. Abruptly his heart is racing, and for a moment he feels nearly dizzy - the reactions, he realizes belatedly, of panic stealing over him. It is absurd; they are entirely safe here. In a place unknown and inaccessible to the world at large, and even if a threat were to manifest, he stands ready to dispatch it. Why, then? Why does his breast twist in horror? Continued deep breaths help him seize control again, and the truth swims slowly up through his subconscious to burst into his mind.

He has not truly taken time to process what happened - the auracite, the injury to Elidibus and to himself. After breaking free of the auracite he had been caught up in passion, worn to exhaustion, and then once more swept into love before seeking out Lahabrea to heal the worst of the damage done to Elidibus. This time, this moment of quiet, is the first he has simply _rested._ He soothes himself with this knowledge, accepting and embracing the fear. He _had_ come terrifyingly close to dying, after all. Worse, Elidibus had taken the damage intended to end him.

They had come unacceptably close to losing the Emissary. It must not happen again.

Slowly the agony caging his heart eases back, allowing him to once more take full, free breaths. Elidibus’s presence helps, the soft sounds of sleep, the way he rolls closer even as Nabriales clutches the bedsheets for an anchor. Careful fingers smooth over silken hair - only because he deems the Emissary deeply asleep - and he sighs, soothed, his heart’s beats finally returning to normal. Slowly he relaxes to settle once more close beside his love. Bit by bit he creates mental distance, stepping back from the traumatic event. He sighs as he realizes he will have to go through all this again when he recounts the events to Lahabrea. Now _that_ was going to be a fun conversation… Deliberately he sets the unpleasant thought aside. No point in borrowing trouble. For now, he intends to enjoy this respite.

Time passes. Though he cannot _see_ the wounds mending, he knows they must be, and it makes each minute precious. Each time one or the other shifts in their sleep, he snaps from his reverie, still protective though it is unlikely danger could reach them here. First Lahabrea sighs and turns, then Elidibus snuggles closer to him, then rolls once more to his back before curling now against Nabriales. A fond smile turns his lips as Elidibus roots against his shoulder, dislodging the beaked mask. Before its edges can press into the sleeping Emissary’s face, he deftly catches it, slipping it fully off, holding it framed in a careful grasp.

He has spent time admiring his lover’s face, but now he turns that same admiration upon his mask. Reverent fingertips trace its contours, exploring the tooling, the points. He caresses it as though it were the face he treasures so, brushing love over its forehead and cheeks, beneath the eyes and along the ridge of the nose. Once his greedy hands are satisfied, he sets it on his chest, centered over his heart, there to remain until he decides to change his position. Then he places it upon the table by the bedside, side by side with his own mask, and rolls to his flank to watch once more over the unsundered Ascians as they heal and rest.

Lahabrea’s mask has taken the chance to slip free as well in the intervening hours; tumbled from the pillow, it rests upon his shoulder, threatening to disappear between the pair. Nabriales considers rescuing it as well, but he hesitates, unsure how Lahabrea would view the gesture. Instead he seizes the opportunity to study Lahabrea’s newly-exposed face.

Almost he feels shameful, stealing this glimpse of Lahabrea so exposed, but he has wondered for so long, and Lahabrea _has_ shown some interest in accepting closeness of late… His gaze is drawn first to golden locks, peeking from the half-fallen hood like cautious rays of sunshine testing the sky after the clouds break. Roving on, his eyes trace high cheekbones, a strong jaw, a brow rather less stormy than he had expected… Heat touches his face as his heart beats a shade faster.

He did not expect he would find Lahabrea so _attractive._

Moreover, as Lahabrea settles yet closer to Elidibus’s shoulder, Nabriales is struck by the contrast between the pair. Elidibus has ever been the moon - his beauty remote and muted, pale hair and eyes calling to mind the night’s silver light. His subtle nature, too, seems a reflection of its gentle light, his aspect when roused to anger as the darkened face of the new moon. While Elidibus’s beauty does not truly wax or wane, his nature of balance echoes in the moon’s phases as it dances its cosmic path from light to dark to light once more.

Lahabrea, on the other hand, gleams golden in the faint light of the windows. His hood has fallen further back, exposing most of his head, and unbound rivulets of gold spill across the pillow, a few reaching out to radiate toward Elidibus, as though trying to touch him with warmth. Lightly sun-kissed skin glows, vivid next to Elidibus’s cool pallor. Faint lines crease his brow, and he releases a heavy sigh, rolling toward the Emissary and sending the mask tumbling. Now in contact, his worry lines smooth, and an almost-curve sets into his lips.

Nabriales finds himself admiring them, spooned as they are, Lahabrea seeming almost protective as well despite his somnolent state. They look… _good_ together. Again his heart speeds up; much as Lahabrea grinds upon his nerves, he _is_ easy on the eyes. And the two of them compliment one another visually. Indeed, the Emissary’s white robes, bracketed as they are between his and Lahabrea’s own black, bring the idea of balance once more to the fore. Nabriales remembers how the Convocation closed ranks around Elidibus upon hearing of his injury.

He truly is their heart.

He feels a strange almost-ache in his chest as he thinks on how much the Emissary gives, the generous spirit that animates him, that moves him to reach out again and again to his fellow Ascians. He wonders abruptly how long it might have been before another reached back to Elidibus, had he not done so - had the confluence of his loneliness, frustration, and brazen self-confidence not pushed him to seize the flicker of interest, of _connection_ that Elidibus had proffered.

Had that minute clench of gold-taloned hands not given Nabriales a glimpse of Elidibus-the-person within Elidibus-the-role.

The thought makes his chest ache all the more, and he banishes it with the reminder that it did not come to pass. They have forged a connection, and through weal and woe both it has brought the Convocation together about its heart. Even though they no longer are bound together as Lahabrea had interwoven them, he knows that each and every one of them is precious to Elidibus in their own way. Nabriales recalls the tenderness, the shepherd-like urge to guide and protect which directs his every interaction with them. Keeping Elidibus to himself would do them all a disservice. And he need never fear that he might be set aside for another.

The feel of Elidibus's aether, heavy and warm within him, is promise enough of that.

Elidibus gives a soft murmur and shifts, swapping one side for the other, turning to face Lahabrea now, his hand falling between them. His shoulders swell and he releases a deep, contented sigh, settling a few ilms closer to the other unsundered Ascian. It is plain to Nabriales that Elidibus derives comfort from Lahabrea's presence, and with how the other Ascian had come to behave before tending to his own issues, Nabriales couldn't blame him. The Unsundered share a bond he can scarcely comprehend, after all, those few refugees of a fragmented world. To see one of their number deteriorate throughout the ages as had Lahabrea must have been agonizing for the Emissary.

He wonders for a time what it must be like to know one another for so long. To remember aeons of discussions, little habits and quirks. To remember those the others have lost - those for whom they labor. The bond they share is implicit, deeper than words, a depth of understanding unimaginable to any other. And yet Elidibus chose to bind himself to Nabriales… As though to interrupt the murky turn his wonderings have taken, Elidibus rolls onto his back, closer to Nabriales. Watching the movement, his lips part in surprise, then stretch into a smile, for Elidibus has somehow seized upon Lahabrea's mask in his sleep and clutches it now to his chest in one hand. He raises a hand to caress the silver hair where it has fallen across the pillow.

Yes, he muses, all the Ascians are important to Elidibus, and the Unsundered especially so. He must not be greedy with the Emissary's affections - as impossible as such a thing would seem, given the apparently bottomless well from which he draws, showering care on any who would accept him. As such, he thinks warmly, feeling the silken strands between his fingers, he has no call to be jealous. He will be foremost in the Emissary’s heart no matter how many he comes to cherish. And he is slowly coming to realize that _he,_ too, has more love to give than he had first realized.

He sighs, bright smile dimming. In particular, he will need to work on his relationship with Lahabrea. For Elidibus's sake, that is; the Emissary would never complain of having to smooth over issues between the two of them, but even Nabriales recognizes how unfair it would be to put him in the position, how unkind to expect him to exercise his professional capacity in their personal lives. Nay, for once _he_ could seek to be a peacemaker. It would, he knows, make Elidibus happy. And that is reason enough.

He dozes for a time, blinking back to wakefulness when Elidibus curls close against him. A sleepy smile warms his face. The earring on Elidibus’s ear winks back at him, and he gives an indistinct murmur, throwing one arm possessively over his lover’s side to hold him close. Still suspended between wakefulness and sleep, his body, already partially hard, stirs further at the feel, the _scent_ of Elidibus all along him. But the thoughts of desire are half-formed, and fade into delightful tangled dreams as sleep embraces him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fabric mends.


	2. Embroidery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embroidery: The craft of decorating fabric or other materials using a needle to apply thread or yarn, it may also incorporate other materials such as pearls, beads, quills, and sequins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adornments are required for decoration.

Warmth, along one side of Lahabrea's body and all about his soul. A low sound intrudes, soft and insistent, repetitive. A voice. His subconscious mind strains for meaning, but it remains elusive until his name jolts him.

"...doubt exerted himself more than he realized in the course of the healing. I am not of a mind to awaken either of them. Let them emerge from sleep on their own, I say. We know to be cautious of this white auracite; for now that is enough. Lahabrea can call us back together once he has fully recovered."

A soft feminine voice responds, one Lahabrea recognizes even though sleep steals the details from his mind. His thoughts drift once more, but when the bed moves beneath him he surfaces again. His eyes slide open enough to see Nabriales returning to his place at Elidibus's other side. Running a hand over his face, he blinks his eyes open, forcing them to focus.

“What is it?” His voice is rough from sleep and disuse, the words lightly slurred. Silence stretches out for a moment, and with Nabriales’s soul bound up with his own he can feel the other Ascian’s annoyance.

“Apologies. I was rather trying _not_ to wake you.” To Lahabrea’s surprise the emotion fades into faint concern. “Nothing more than the others checking in on us. How are you feeling?”

An uncoordinated attempt to sit up gets him nowhere fast; he sinks back down against Elidibus’s shoulder, letting himself relax against him as he focuses on shaking off the heavy mantle of sleep. “How long was I asleep?”

Nabriales waves an unconcerned hand. “Not as long as you probably ought have been. Feel free to return to it. Events will await our pleasure.”

Lahabrea blinks repeatedly, and his vision finally begins to clear, to sharpen. Much as he wishes to protest, to get immediately back to work, his physical vessel seems set to conspire against it - and his soul is still weary enough from his exertions that he cannot overcome the limitations by sheer force of will, as he ordinarily would. With a sigh gusty enough to stir Elidibus’s fine hair, he resigns himself to a more leisurely awakening. A spot of light winks at him, drawing his bleary eyes to Elidibus’s ear, and he frowns, his focus narrowing. Was that -

Feeling more alert, Lahabrea tries to sit up again. This effort is more successful; he comes vertical in time to see Nabriales scowl. The sundered Ascian’s mask is nowhere in evidence; nor is the Emissary’s, he realizes as he looks over the still-sleeping Ascian, and his own mask lies clutched in his hands. His first instinct is to seize it back, to put it in its place upon his face, but he hesitates, loath to risk disturbing Elidibus. He instead turns his eyes to the Emissary’s ear, to the dark crystal adornment hanging from its lobe. 

There can be no mistake. The earring is one he has seen numerous times in his work with Nabriales, and when he raises his eyes once more, one of the ordinarily adorned lobes is bare. Memory begins to seep back, the bond, the aether… The eyes of his soul turn inward, to look at the place where they are entwined.

In sleep, Elidibus's vast oceans are as ink, thick and viscous, strewn with slow rivulets of moonglow dust like streams of miniature stars. Both he and Nabriales are engulfed, wrapped and held - clutched, almost, granting security and comfort to the exhausted Emissary - a warm and welcoming darkness holding them close. But this velvet blanket cannot conceal Nabriales from him, connected directly as they are, and even within Elidibus’s weave it is clear that Nabriales carries the Emissary’s signature within him, not simply woven but _given_. As, he realizes, the Emissary does Nabriales's own aether. Curious, and unexpected.

"Perhaps it is no place of mine to intrude, but I cannot help but wonder what has transpired between the two of you. You carry one another's aether… and by the earring of yours he wears, I gather you do not mean to hide your association." Not that any could miss the aetherial signatures each bore of the other, but such an intimate thing would be noted and politely ignored by all considerate onlookers. The physical gift, on the other hand, broadcast intent, at least to Lahabrea's mind. Shifting on the bed, he leans against its headboard, finding a comfortable position. "Perhaps you had best begin at the start."

  
  
  
  


Nabriales sighs, abandoning his hopes of curling up once more beside his Emissary and dozing in protective comfort. This is the conversation that has been looming over him all the while he has kept watch over the pair. Dreading it has helped naught, though, and he is tired of it hanging over his head. He turns somewhat to face toward Lahabrea, though his eyes rest on Elidibus, tracing the cherished features, drawing strength from his lover’s presence, the knowledge that he is here, safe, healing.

“The beginning,” he murmurs. “Very well…” He raises his eyes to Lahabrea’s, finds the golden orbs watching him steadily. “As you may have inferred by our discovery of white auracite, I did wind up in confrontation with the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.” The anticipated displeasure blossoms both in expression and soul, and he heaves a sigh. “In my defense, I did not make the first move. They have devised some kind of device for siphoning aether from the large crystals that litter Eorzea. In my attempt to get close enough to ascertain how it functions, the Warrior of Light somehow sensed me.”

“I instructed you, did I not, to keep at a remove.”

“I did!” He sighs, dials back his frustration. His fingers twine lightly into Elidibus’s hair, the touch visibly soothing him. “You did not warn me that I would need to remain so infernally _far._ When did the crystal bearer become so sensitive to our presence, anyway?” A wave of his free hand dismisses the line of questioning. “Of course, once sensed it was only polite to introduce myself. And I discovered something most fascinating: the Bringer of Light has lost their light. I know not how or when, but they are _vulnerable._ Could you truly blame me for seizing the opportunity to act?”

This time it is Lahabrea’s turn to sigh. “I most certainly could, though I cannot say it surprises me. And how did that go for you?”

Rage swells in his breast, and Lahabrea’s soul draws back in surprise and dismay at the intensity of the response. Before Nabriales can sever the connection, though, he is caught in a gentle embrace - Lahabrea shows him his regret, his remorse over his harsh words, soul to soul. Between them, Elidibus stirs lightly in his sleep. Concern draws Nabriales’s eyes down as he rolls onto his side, toward Nabriales, clutching the mask in his hands more tightly to his breast. Lahabrea’s voice brings his head back up.

“I apologize; that was unkind. You are more aware than I, no doubt, of the consequences of heedless action. I will endeavor not to belabor the point.”

The words and gestures of reconciliation quench the fire in Nabriales’s breast; while the embers of anger yet smoulder, they no longer threaten to ignite. “Let us speak no more of it. At any rate, my attempt to seize Tupsimati resulted in a confrontation, one that, despite the loss of the blessing of light, I did not prevail in. While I was weakened, they imprisoned me in the auracite. I feared they would destroy me, but somehow Elidibus discerned my plight and was able to seize the auracite moments before…” He breaks off, shivering, gulping a deep breath in. “Well. You saw the damage.”

“Indeed.” A pensive silence grows; Nabriales turns his eyes once more upon his resting lover, fingers tracing over his shoulder, up and down his arm, reminding himself that they are okay, that they _will be_ okay.

“I eventually was able to shatter the auracite and break free. I was… in a state of severe distress. Disgraced, embarrassed, horrified at what he had to endure to save me. Ashamed.” His frank words engender surprise in Lahabrea, but he pushes on, unwilling to lose his momentum. “I wanted nothing more than to seclude myself and brood as I recovered.” Memory envelops him, and a smile grows across his face. “Elidibus had other plans.”

“And that is, then, how you…” Nabriales looks up to find a faint blush upon Lahabrea’s face, visible accompaniment to the hesitance of his speech and soul. “Came to be replete with his aether?” the Speaker finishes delicately.

“I shall spare you the intimate details, but yes. He convinced me to stay, assured me of my value to him, as it were, and…” His eyes lower once more, but this gaze is possessive, worshipful. “It is, as you have inferred, no fling, no mere diversion. We are dedicated to one another.”

“How unusual,” Lahabrea murmurs. Nabriales gives him a sharp look, but the Speaker seems intrigued, not denouncing the relationship but attempting to puzzle it out. Elidibus shifts again, rolling once more toward Lahabrea, his head lolling to the side and one hand falling along his leg. The contact seems to jar Lahabrea from his thoughts; he looks once more to Nabriales.

“Tell me everything you know about this ‘white auracite’ the Scions of the Seventh Dawn used on you.”

  
  
  
  


Silence stretches out as Nabriales finishes his explanation. Lahabrea sits back, pensive. Worried, if he is honest with himself. The first step, he decides, will be an exploratory mission - an infiltration or a stakeout to determine the precise aetherial qualities of this “auracite” and learn how it is made. This will determine how severe of a threat it is. Perhaps they can disrupt the creation process, interrupt the supplies needed, or at the least find a way to detect its presence at a remove…

Nabriales shifts, audibly restive, sliding down the headboard to curl at Elidibus’s side. And there is another enigma. The change wrought in the sundered Ascian is too significant to be dismissed or disregarded. Indeed, it is baffling. Nabriales glances up, shows him half of a grin, clearly amused by Lahabrea’s confusion and uncertainty. Lahabrea’s eyes drop to Elidibus, to his mask still clutched in one hand, as though it were precious. The other hand rests against his leg, palm up, fingers curled upward.

He wonders if he should risk waking Elidibus to retrieve his mask.

“Is something troubling you?”

Nabriales seems at ease, the question genuine. “I am concerned about this auracite and eager to be about our preparations to deal with it.” He sighs. “I am also unaccustomed, shall we say, to being around others while unmasked. And I do not wish to impose upon the pair of you any further than I already have.”

Nabriales’s eyes narrow. “It is hardly an imposition. Elidibus is weary, and your presence seems to soothe him. He is like to take too much upon himself; the longer we can induce him to rest, the better for him, I think, in the long run.”

“All the same, I cannot help but feel an intruder here. I need not know the details of your association to recognize that this is a good thing. For both of you. Far be it from me to sully it in any way.”

Nabriales sighs, fingertips massaging his temple as annoyance bursts across their connection. “Your presence is not offensive, as you seem to assume. While it is true that you do have a knack for grating upon the last of my nerves, withdrawing will not fix that - in fact, we will soon end up right where we were but days ago.” A faint flush of red on the high cheekbones is echoed within as chagrin. “It is yet unusual to me, but I cannot deny the advantages of a bond such as this. Not an hour ago, I believed you _enjoyed_ riling me. It was not until you recoiled from the anger your words spurred in me that it even occurred to me that you simply did not realize.”

Lahabrea’s gaze drops, going pensively distant. “You make a fair point. It seems we have numerous behaviors toward one another that we must unlearn. But Elidibus need not trouble himself with our personal issues.”

To his surprise, this wrings a burst of laughter from Nabriales. “Why do you think I am going to this effort, if not for his sake?” At Lahabrea’s confusion, he goes on. “Or did you think he sought closeness with you solely because of his injury? If that were all, well, _I_ am right here. He has missed you… or have you not realized he clings as tightly to you as to me?” Nabriales brings his attention to where their souls are entangled, where Elidibus holds, even in slumber, to them both, and for a moment Lahabrea is silent, mulling over this surprising revelation.

“Why would he not simply say something to me? Surely he knows I would not turn him away if I knew he was lonely.”

“With his position, he feels he cannot so much as _ask_ for fear that we might feel obligated or pressured to offer him the companionship he so desperately needs. The idea of abusing his position to satisfy his needs is utterly anathema to him. He could never forgive himself were he to be misunderstood. In the same vein, were one of us to seek intimacy with him under the expectation that it would give us some advantage, some special honor, he would be devastated. And so he has kept himself apart, content - nay, nothing so satisfied; despairing, more like - to wait for another to approach him unbidden.”

“While we mistook his remove for disinterest and sunk him into further isolation.” Lahabrea takes a deep breath, trying to force aside the knot in his chest. He realizes he is as guilty as any other in this. More so, perhaps, for he knew his ancient comrade from antiquity. He has let himself focus too much upon the work and so lost sight of the workers. His hand creeps hesitantly toward the Emissary’s shoulder; his gaze flicks to Nabriales, seeking permission. A roll of cinnamon-brown eyes is deemed sufficient, and he closes the contact, his fingers brushing over the fine fabric, currently darkened in patches from the damage Elidibus suffered. It has, he realizes, been too long since he has let himself be _close_ to another. Emboldened fingers slide further, finding the collarbone, and he sinks from his sitting position, letting himself curl closer to Elidibus’s side with a sigh of contentment.

  
  
  
  


The movement of the Speaker disturbs Elidibus in his slumber, brows pulling into a frown, breathing beginning to grow shallow. That thick blanket of viscous stygian rolls into motion; dripping over the other two Ascians, slow and cloying like molasses. But even as it pours, it _thins,_ driving the mind of the Emissary closer and closer towards wakefulness. 

Held between two familiar bodies, he is not fully aware though his lips part to breathe a pair of names.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales trains his full attention on Elidibus as he shifts, stirs, murmurs. His name falling from those lips brings a smile to his own, nearly a grin, and Lahabrea’s name following it does not dim his pleasure. Again Lahabrea reacts to the name, his face flushing lightly, and with his mask still held by Elidibus it is plain to see. Within, the Emissary enfolds them both in himself, and Nabriales opens himself to the embrace, reaching back in welcome. Lahabrea, he feels, is more hesitant, less sure, but at his gentle encouraging he too responds to Elidibus’s sleepy grasp.

As Elidibus slowly emerges from sleep, he lets his hand stroke freely over the shoulder before him, the collarbone, the chest. With gentle touches he welcomes Elidibus to consciousness.

  
  
  
  


Mouth going slack, an unaware _moan_ leaves Elidibus's lips at the touches that ghost over his torso. Face bared to all, it is easy to see how color seeps onto those pale cheeks, how his breathing _hitches._

Velvet darkness does not recede, but lightens as those pale eyes flutter open. The glazed appearance of one still hovering on the precipice of rest lingers, and Elidibus holds the mask of Lahabrea more closely to his chest. White hair is in quite an unkempt state, falling into his face and obscuring his features as he turns his head towards Nabriales. The welcome within is returned eagerly, one hand reaching to brush fingertips over that beloved face.

A soft breath ghosts from his lips. "You are here."

  
  
  
  


It is unusual for Lahabrea to watch another awaken so, for such vulnerability requires a trust, a closeness he has not experienced in far too long. There is, he allows, something _sweet_ about it. Something precious. Certainly the intimacy of true names is… yes. Unusual.

Not entirely unwelcome.

The heat slowly fades from his face as he watches Elidibus’s pale eyes blink open, grogginess lingering and leaving them defocused. To see those eyes turn upon Nabriales, a hand rise to caress his face, feels like an undeserved gift. Who is he to have any part in this moment? And yet, both still hold to him deep within his soul, Nabriales in a light but insistent twist and Elidibus fit to nigh engulf him. So he allows himself the indulgence, watching as Elidibus murmurs tender words to Nabriales, as Nabriales responds in turn and leans close for a light kiss. Now he does avert his eyes, the heat returning to his face.

His fingers still linger upon Elidibus’s shoulder, gone still since the moment he opened his eyes; almost he draws them back, but the way the Emissary clings to him makes him strangely reluctant to break the contact, clearly so welcome. So he sighs and lets his eyes slide shut, basking in the reflected warmth of intimacy.

  
  
  
  


The soft sigh draws Elidibus's attentions to where the Speaker rests on his other side. He presses a last sweet kiss, lingering, to Nabriales's lips before turning back to Lahabrea.

There are no words, as Elidibus blinks away the lingering sleep that plagues him. Even as he fully rises to wakefulness he does not relinquish his grasp upon the other Unsundered, lifting his free hand to cup his face. A thumb brushes, delicately, over upturned nose and blonde lashes. Now fully aware of himself, he speaks Lahabrea's given name once more.

"You, too, remained."

  
  
  
  


Lahabrea thought he had grown accustomed to Elidibus’s casual use of his personal name; certainly as he had done before, muttering in sleepy confusion, it was understandable. Entirely forgivable. But when it is turned deliberately on him - combined, no less, with a gentle, heart-stopping touch upon his face - he finds himself at a loss. Heat blossoms over his cheeks, creeps down his neck as he blushes deeply. His eyes open, rise to find Elidibus’s own, gold suns meeting pale moons.

_You, too, remained._ Within, Lahabrea can feel how precious this is to the Emissary, and it shakes him to his core.

“I-” At first he seeks to disavow Elidibus’s words, to deflect the regard in them. But he is reminded, both by his own memory and the twin caresses upon his soul, that he seeks now to do better, to embrace ties rather than shun them. He clears his throat. “So I did. It is… nice… to feel welcome.” He lays a tentative hand over Elidibus’s own where it clutches his mask.

  
  
  
  


Fingers loosen where they grasp carmine mask to twist and interlace with those laid upon them. Lahabrea's decision is an active one, another step forward rather than back, and both other Ascians can feel the warmth that wells up from deep within Elidibus. Fondness and _love_ run free, Emissary unable to hide behind the fog of sleep as he reveals the truth of how he feels for the other man.

"Ever have you been welcome to me." The words are spoken like a confession, a secret between three men.

Pale eyes search icy gold for a moment longer before the hand cupping Lahabrea's cheek slides to tangle in blond hair. Elidibus allows his eyes to fall shut as he closes the distance between them, lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss. It is unlike the first he had shared with Nabriales in every way; there is no desperation here, no lingering fear of losing the other. No, this is a reunion of souls who had drifted much too far before this reconciliation.

His lips move gently against the other man's, _showing_ what Elidibus feels.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales is once again laid low by the abundant love that wells eternally from Elidibus. His lips yet tingle from that last kiss as the Emissary turns to Lahabrea and puts voice to the welcome in his soul. As Elidibus leans in to press his lips to Lahabrea’s, Nabriales _feels_ his shock, his blank disbelief at being so kissed. Already pink cheeks flame scarlet, and a surprised sound, questioning, slips from him as he relaxes from startlement to pleasure. His eyes slide half-closed, and Nabriales raises himself on an elbow, pleased to enjoy the view.

Elidibus draws Lahabrea close, his fingers twining into the golden strands; within, souls likewise twine closer, finding something that has long been lost, yet even Nabriales can see how they rediscover it together, renewing it once more. Elidibus’s lips caress Lahabrea’s, tender and sweet. In response, Lahabrea’s eyes close fully, and a needy sound bursts from him.

A sudden movement, and now Lahabrea has moved over the Emissary, his hand fisting in the sleep-tangled locks as he fuses his mouth to Elidibus’s with sudden desperation. Now it is Nabriales’s turn to flush warm at the striking sight, heart beating faster as his body begins to stir. Gold hair falls to mingle with silver, a halo wreathing them both as Lahabrea presses closer. Within their souls, as well, Lahabrea reaches for _more._

A curious sensation builds within Nabriales’s breast, a twisting almost-pain… and he realizes that Lahabrea is as desperately lonely as he himself had been before Elidibus had accepted his invitation. He _knows_ that pain - intimately - and he… 

He does not wish for Lahabrea to suffer it either.

And so, as Lahabrea reaches out in need, he too reaches back, enfolding the Speaker in warmth and welcome.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales reaches and shrouds the Speaker in care he has not experienced for millennia, and Elidibus does the same. Each seeking grasp, every castaway thread is caught and tied off, made secure. Two hands now grip golden hair, pulling the Speaker down even as he himself does the same. A soft sound is drawn from Elidibus. It is care, it is welcome, it is _elation_ to have Lahabrea show him such. A tilt of his chin has their mouths slotting together more easily, deepening their kiss.

Velvet dark lifts to wind with that desperate _reach,_ and Elidibus gives all Lahabrea asks for. Nabriales, too, is woven into this weave; though less so, smaller in soul but not diminished because of it. 

And so it is with _two_ voices, two souls, that Lahabrea is held close.

But when Elidibus attempts to reciprocate, to reach inside of Lahabrea as the Speaker touches deep within his own soul, there is a twinge of discomfort. Not the sharp pain of before, no, not so severe of injury. It is the soreness of an overused muscle, the stretch and burn of healing. He breaks the kiss to gasp slightly, ceasing his efforts to reach across.

  
  
  
  


Lahabrea is nigh overwhelmed by the generous response to his need for closeness. Elidibus holds fast to him with hands buried in his hair and within their souls as well. Held thus, he loses himself in the kiss, so sweet after so long in self-imposed isolation. And then, atop all that, to be embraced by Nabriales as well… it but reinforces the correctness of his chosen path.

He need not go it alone any longer.

Elidibus reaches back to cling closer, but falters as his still-healing soul twinges in pain. Their lips part as Elidibus gasps. The pain bleeding through their connection burns away his single-minded drive for _more_ and brings him fully to reality. He tries to draw back, worried for the Emissary, but the hands clinging to his hair do not release, holding him insistently near.

“Elidibus?” he murmurs in concern, trying to focus upon the face before his own. Beside them, Nabriales shifts closer, admonishment and worry spilling from his soul into Elidibus as he cups the Emissary’s chin.

“Are you all right?” His arm falls over Lahabrea as he leans close. Lahabrea’s face warms at the contact and the reminder of how he allowed himself to lose all sense at the feel of Elidibus’s lips upon his own. He is, perhaps, fortunate that there is a greater concern than his own foolish embarrassment; he trains his attention once more upon the Emissary, hoping that they did not carelessly worsen his injuries.

  
  
  
  


The man in question does not answer immediately. Instead, he turns within to gaze upon his own soul, unwilling to give a flippant, baseless answer. The last vestiges of blinding wounds still slowly slip away, but the depth has not been rent open once again. Lahabrea's work has been thankfully undisturbed, and it is with relief that pale eyes open to gaze up into gold. A soft breath, a tilting of his head to nuzzle into the hand cupping his face, and he looks over to meet the worried look of Nabriales.

"Ease your hearts, I am well. It was merely a stretch, though perhaps one I should not repeat myself until I am recovered in full." One hand drifts downwards to press against Lahabrea's back, holding the other man to him firmly.

A breath, and Elidibus smiles warmly. Instead of reaching for _them_ this time, he cups and entwines where they have delved into his own soul. An apology passes through, sincerity ringing clear.

  
  
  
  


A sigh of relief gusts from Lahabrea’s lips. “A relief it is, truly. And not merely because I should hate to have to redo my work.” His smile shows the jest for what it is. Elidibus’s arm holds him close, and within their souls the Emissary sends his contrition through their connection. Lahabrea can feel how he still wishes to reach back; after a fractional hesitation he deepens the weave, giving what Elidibus wishes to but must not. He dips his head to capture those lips once more, not frantic this time but slow and sweet.

When he draws back, the movement is slow, reluctant. He runs fingertips through the tangle of Elidibus’s hair; a flick of aether washes down it, easing the knots and twists out and leaving the strands straight. The action is not solely for Elidibus’s sake; he combs greedy fingers through the now-smooth hair, again and again, sighing at the feel of the silken length.

“Nabriales has already told me of the auracite. Much as I would love to linger, I must needs share your findings with the rest. We may wish to hasten our timetable, as well; this crystal bearer is like to become a significant obstacle in our plans.” He bends once more to steal a kiss, a brief brush of lips before duty might begin to call.

  
  
  
  


But that brush is all too brief, the parting coming far too soon. Despite the deepened connection courtesy of Lahabrea, despite the knowledge that this information _must_ be shared, Elidibus is loath to see the Speaker depart. It is a brief thought, fleeting though not too quick for the others to miss; a barest hint of worry. That should Lahabrea leave here, now, he would not come to return the connection again.

And so Elidibus makes to reach once more.

Again he locks eyes with the Speaker. His lips still feel of the other man's, his hair still combed by fingers, and his grip tightens on the back of Lahabrea's robe. He yearns to be closer, forgetting for the moment the watchful gaze of Nabriales and the soreness of moments ago. Beginning to stretch his soul, the Emissary sends threads to reach out for Lahabrea.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales feels the thorn of worry that pricks the Emissary - and, he understands, not without reason, for the oldest of habits die the hardest… and he does not know of a time when the Speaker did not hold himself at a remove from his comrades. But the momentary gasp earlier, the discomfort, sent him back to the moment when Elidibus had fallen after teleporting them to the Chrysalis. Though reassured that he had taken neither harm nor pain this time, he is still vigilant, on edge. He does not miss the action, Elidibus's thoughtless needy reach for Lahabrea.

His reaction is immediate - first a surge within his own soul, seizing and grappling those tendrils. The motion is sharp with worry, but he gentles it immediately to a tender engulfing embrace. His hand also grips with desperate intensity on Elidibus's shoulder; this, too, he forces to relax.

"Have we not just done this song and dance?" His voice is full of complaint, though his soul's warmth puts the lie to his grousing. "You must not exert your soul until you have healed fully. Nay," he counters before the Emissary can so much as draw breath to protest, "I will not tolerate any unnecessary risk. I am sure Lahabrea agrees." Indeed, he can feel that he also did not miss the Emissary's worry, that he already seeks a way to alleviate it.

The Speaker chuckles, brushing dextrous fingers down Elidibus's cheek. "Indeed." He sobers. "I believe Emet-Selch should be told of this auracite, as well. What say you? Once you are recovered, should we plan then to awaken him?"

  
  
  
  


Such an offer comes as a surprise to the Emissary, the shock compounded by such a strong reaction from Nabriales and the feel of gentle fingers upon his face. The warmth around his soul is comforting, and he does not push against Nabriales's hold. Instead, he allows himself to be folded further, surrounded by weight and care. The regard, however, is alien to him still. 

"You have my apologies; it was not in my intentions to worry you so." Spoken softly, he looks to the hand which grips him, eyes traveling up to meet burnt orange. There is sincerity there, the truth told in aether between three souls. "Thank you, for doing such a thing."

_For me,_ is left unspoken, the ache of a soul unused to such things.

Still, their duty calls Lahabrea, and now with a renewed levelheadedness Elidibus recognizes that it must come first. His wants are secondary, as they always would be. Kiss-swollen lips are wet by his tongue - he _tastes_ the Speaker there, breath _hitching_ \- and he loosens his grasp upon black robes. Fingers run through blond hair, lingering upon those fine features. One last tender touch is all he gives.

"We shall be in need of him. In this, we must stand united." A breath, myriad emotions felt but given no voice. Indeed, his face remains the usual even expression. "I will send for you, Lahabrea, when I recover. Should you still wish for this."

  
  
  
  


Lahabrea moves, turning his face into the hand and brushing his lips over Elidibus's fingertips. "Of course," he murmurs, gaze turning down to drink him in. Gold eyes burn molten hot as they rove over glistening lips, and it is an effort to rein himself in, to sit up. But not only does duty begin to whisper its necessity into his soul, but Elidibus's surprise at being treated with care and consideration - as he should always have been, as Lahabrea had once done, so very, very long ago… For a moment he wallows in self-recrimination; Nabriales's voice plucks him from its depths.

“You may wish to convene the others at your leisure,” Nabriales informs him. “It has been more than a day that you both slept. They await your call.”

“And will you not be there?” Lahabrea asks, not bothering to hide his amusement. Nabriales turns a smirk from him to linger on Elidibus.

“Nay,” he murmurs. “I have something more pressing to see to, and I need not be warned about white auracite.” His eyes flick back to Lahabrea for a moment. “Surely you do not require my presence?”

“I suppose not,” Lahabrea says, and sighs. This was not going to feel good. “I fear, in fact, that you cannot continue to serve in your previous capacity. Your breach in behavior nearly saw your destruction; I cannot in good conscience let it pass. We will have to see about some other assignment for you; another will take your place at my side."

With the connection in place he can _feel_ how it crushes Nabriales, not unexpected but scarcely less painful for it. He reaches out, inviting _more_ connection instead of a severing, _showing_ how it pains him to do this to the ambitious Ascian. The olive branch he extends helps, though not much, and he turns to Elidibus in helpless uncertainty, hoping that he might know how best to comfort his lover.

  
  
  
  


Having been relieved of the body lying atop him, Elidibus is free to roll and turn to Nabriales. He reaches for that cheek, fingers brushing over soft hair before thumbing the earring that hangs. In a smooth motion, he brings their foreheads together. The physical comfort, he knows, is one Nabriales craves in this moment; his very soul practically screams for it. In fact, with how the other Ascian has him enfolded in that aetherial embrace, the Emissary need not exert himself to weave tighter to the other man.

"Come, Nabriales, did you not moments ago speak of having more pressing matters to see to?" The words are soft, fond. A long few moments pass before he speaks again, hesitation as he prepares a confession. "I will be unable to adequately perform my duty until my recovery is complete. As such, it is necessary for one to take up station alongside myself. Given the nature of my weakness... This task cannot fall to one other than another of the Convocation. Any other would perish, should the need to defend ourselves occur."

Ever since the confrontation with the Warrior of Light, there had been an idea brewing in the back of Elidibus's mind. Pushed aside by all that had happened since, the opportunity had not arisen to employ such a thing. It was now time to put this move into play.

"Lahabrea, as you convene with the others I have a request for you." He shakes his head, not moving from where he comforts Nabriales. "Nay, it shall be a requirement. Given the nature of this new threat, our use of companions must be enforced. Should a member of the Convocation foray to the Source or one of the other Shards, another must walk as their partner. Regardless of the inconvenience, these pairs must not separate; even temporarily."

A breath, and Nabriales is questioning his place in this. "You are one of the most powerful of our number, Nabriales. I would have you at my side to assist me from here onwards. Had Lahabrea not released you from his service, I would have requested it."

  
  
  
  


Nabriales scarcely registers Lahabrea's assent, so overwhelmed he is by Elidibus's caring. Soothed first in body, by the tender press to his forehead, then in soul as he is held in Elidibus's warm embrace, his wounded heart begins to mend. His words ease Nabriales next, offering an alternative - no sop to his ego, but a duty as important… and more precious.

That he can feel Elidibus’s sincerity when he makes the request, when he speaks frankly of Nabriales’s power, is sweeter than rosewater. Tender relief makes his eyes prick, and his arm slides over Elidibus, pulling their bodies close as their lips meet. His kiss is needy, demanding, but still gentle all despite, and as he drinks in his lover the tension seeps from his body. When he draws back he is much recovered, his heart again brimming with love such that there is no more room for pain.

As he takes a deep breath, to be released as a sigh, he notices that Lahabrea is preparing to leave, eyes politely averted from the pair entwined on the bed. He cannot help a grin; this suits him just fine. As good as it is to have found a new connection, he craves a bit more time alone with his lover. Perhaps another time Lahabrea will be ready to join them, but for now, duty calls him away.

  
But while Lahabrea has drawn to some remove within their entangled souls, he has not disconnected. As he slips on the last glove to complete his ensemble, he turns his still-bared head to them, a faint brush of pink once more gracing his high cheekbones.

“Might I trouble you for my mask?”

  
  
  
  


The Speaker is the picture of professional politeness despite the fluster that crawls over his countenance. Elidibus, with a soft sound of exertion - when had his muscles grown so stiff? - pushes himself away from Nabriales to sit up and move to the edge of the bed. One hand grasps the mask in question, while the other beckons for Lahabrea to come closer. His intent is obvious, and the faint color on those fine cheeks wells to a far deeper crimson as Lahabrea complies. Surely, he cannot mean to-

But he does.

Steady hands fit the snarling mask to Lahabrea's face. Deft fingers sweep back blond hair and the black hood is lifted to settle in its place. The motions are almost ritualistic. A final adjustment, the last few stray golden strands tucked away, and Elidibus leans up to press a reverent kiss to Lahabrea's lips. He draws back with a smile that deepens to a more serious look, to something _more._

"Go in His grace, Lahabrea." It is not a command, but a blessing.

Physically Elidibus withdraws, back to the arms of his lover. Nabriales slips an arm around him as if he had never moved, but their eyes both remain trained on the Speaker. Unlike the last time he had been so entangled, Elidibus leaves the matters of the soul for Lahabrea to sort. Though the odds are low to cause strain via the disconnection, the Emissary takes Nabriales's words to heart, and waits for the other Ascian to take his leave.

  
  
  
  


Lahabrea sighs at the faint touches upon his face and head. Elidibus setting the mask into its place is a soothing intimacy. To allow another to care for him… and yet it does not feel like weakness; he drinks it in in silence, treasuring it. The kiss is sweet, a kind goodbye - not farewell, it is too inviting for that - and the words somehow sweeter yet. He dips his head, acknowledgement and half-forgotten ritual, then straightens with a sigh.

He makes for the door, head and heart full of strange and wonderful things, but pauses upon the threshold. He turns back, casting his gaze over the pair upon the bed, fixing the moment in memory. Yes, he decides, he would like more of this… closeness. When he releases the last of the bindings between himself and the other men, it is with the thought that one day - perhaps soon - they shall be renewed, reconnected.

“Fare you well, until we convene once more. I shall await your call, once you are recovered.” He smiles before turning back, casting his mind now ahead, to his duty, his plans. He shall need another to take Nabriales’s place, not only as he finishes his own recovery from battle with the Warrior of Light, but also to set the example for Elidibus’s mandate that they do not venture into danger alone. Igeyorhm, perhaps…

  
  
  
  


Nabriales watches Lahabrea until the shadows steal him away. Alone now with Elidibus, he turns upon his side so as to lean partially over him. His eyes rove over his form, his face. Within their souls, as well, he checks him over; where they are entwined, he inspects the work Lahabrea performed, the healing that has occurred as Elidibus rested. Pleased with the improvements, he dips smiling lips to the Emissary’s, seeking to steal his breath with a languid kiss, though his desire soon spurs him to deepen it until his mouth fair scorches those full lips. He draws back slowly, eyes burning into Elidibus.

  
“How are you feeling?”

  
  
  
  


Such a question begs for reply. But gazing up into those warm eyes set ablaze Elidibus finds he has none. Curious, how a previously rare circumstance finds itself repeated so frequently of late. It is, the Emissary recognizes, fully due to the Ascian looking down at him with hunger in those eyes. Bereft of his words, Elidibus chooses to _show_ his answer.

Lips fair crash into one another as Elidibus surges upwards, one hand curling around the back of the other man's neck and fisting into his hair.

If Nabriales had sought to quicken the desire of the Emissary, he had _well_ succeeded.

  
  
  
  


Elidibus’s response to his query is eloquent in its own way, the language of skin rather than words. The fury of the kiss is most gratifying, sending a throb of _desire_ through Nabriales, but the need is not enough to overwhelm his sense; he yet remains painfully cognizant of the Emissary’s still-recovering state. With a sigh, he catches Elidibus’s face in a gentle hold, easing him back down to the bed. At first he follows, pressing down, coaxing him to recline, relax, but all too soon he draws back, his hand lingering, gentle but insistent.

This was no time for Elidibus to strain himself; nay, Nabriales would take that joyful burden upon himself.

He smirks down, fingers firm yet loving upon Elidibus’s jaw. “I am pleased to see you seeming much recovered. But that was not the vein in which my question was intended.” The warm gaze intensifies, a hint of concern bleeding through. “Much as I _crave_ you, I am primarily concerned with your quick and full recovery.” Relenting, he dips to brush a kiss to Elidibus’s forehead. “I would not have you slow your healing by _exerting_ yourself, love… but perhaps a _bit_ of exercise would not go awry.”

  
  
  
  


A sweep of pale lashes ease open to look up at where Nabriales hovers over Elidibus. Tongue wetting his lips, it takes the Emissary a moment to find his words. In truth he must look within himself to ascertain the progress of his recovery, the darkness threaded through his being - placed by Lahabrea - providing the scaffolding of his rapidly regenerating soul. Indeed he is much replenished, though the speed of his recovery going forward would no doubt slow.

Fingers slide to brush hair from Nabriales's forehead. "I am much improved. No doubt I will continue to do so, should your watchful eye remain upon me."

Heat wells from within, unspooling from his soul to pulse throughout his blood. "Do not behave as if I am bested by this. I am healing, not an invalid. It would do us both well to perhaps engage in a bit of activity." Despite the words his soul curls around where the other Ascian presses close - a request, affection, _warmth._

  
  
  
  


Nabriales chuckles at Elidibus’s gentle censure, unfolding his own soul further in welcome. “Very well. I shall not coddle you, then - provided that you inform me _immediately_ should any issues happen to arise.” He leans close once more, his lips brushing the very edge of Elidibus’s ear, the one with the earring - no coincidence, that. He ghosts kisses along its rim, smiling as he bumps against the earring. Shifting now to the jaw, he presses a firmer kiss to its corner, then draws back with a grin.

Within, he reaches his soul to wind about Elidibus, moving slowly to weave around him, to engulf him, strand by slow strand. He keeps the contact deliberate, bending as slowly to lay a kiss upon those eloquent lips; one hand wanders from its place upon Elidibus’s shoulder to move gradually lower, caressing through the layers of cloth until it reaches his hip. The other hand leaves his jaw, sliding to bury itself in fine silver strands. Gently he turns the Emissary’s head until their lips are fused and he can devour his mouth.

Even so, his motions are slow, and within his soul amusement and satisfaction well. He sees no reason why care and playful teasing cannot go hand in hand. He intends to enjoy _taking care_ of his Emissary.

  
  
  
  


Such physical attentions draw a shiver that runs down the length of Elidibus's spine. Muscles tremble as with an obvious effort he keeps himself as still as he is able. Fingers grip tightly to short brown locks, his other hand slipping to grasp at Nabriales's shoulder. Tongue greets that of his lover, sliding together in a languid dance, and despite himself his body presses against the other Ascian's, wanting that closeness, _needing_ that contact.

An easy movement, and the hand buried in his lover's hair shifts to cup the side of his head. Elidibus's thumb cradles the earring, a spike of warmth jolting through him at the reminder. 

This man is _his._

  
  
  
  


Elidibus’s response wrings a soft pleased sound from Nabriales, and for a moment he simply savors the kiss. The touch upon his earring has him sighing against Elidibus’s lips. There is something _incomparable_ about the symbol of their connection. Every reminder - every sight, every touch - upon the earrings is liable to make his heart soar, his lips curve into a smile of joy and satisfaction. With another sigh he rises up, breaking the kiss, but he does not leave Elidibus unattended for long.

Sitting up, he runs his hands up the Emissary’s legs, sliding his robe to bunch above his waist. He straddles him, his weight coming down upon his hips, and as he leans forward, letting his pelvis grind deliberately against his lover’s, he _grins._

“Surely you would be more comfortable without all these heavy layers, mmm?” He smirks, bending to brush his lips briefly over Elidibus’s before sitting back once more. His hands slip over that broad chest, slowly sliding the robe up. “Would you do me a kindness, love, and help me get this heavy robe off you?”

  
  
  
  


A breathless laugh - stolen from that _sinful_ grinding - is Elidibus's answer. "Had you waited longer to ask, I may have decided to test your willingness to subdue me." Pale eyes melt the further his robe travels, _molten_ by the time he moves. "Allow me to indulge you."

Deft hands fall from Nabriales's form to take hold of where his robe is bunched. In a sinuous movement, he grasps and _pulls,_ back arching upwards as he draws his mark of office over his head. The fabric is heavy with its adornments, but carelessly he allows the entire ensemble to thud heavily to the floor with a muffled clatter. Now clad in only his trousers, the Emissary lays back and almost casually rests his arms about his head. Spread over the pillow, almost akimbo, he lowers his lids halfway and licks his lips.

Skintight is his remaining clothing, leaving very little to the imagination, and Elidibus knows this fact _quite_ well. A predatory smile spreads over his face as he watches Nabriales's eyes dilate as the taller Ascian takes in his lithe form.

  
  
  
  


Warm eyes darken with desire as he gazes upon the cherished form laid below him - a veritable feast. “Hmmm, so hasty.” As he speaks Nabriales bends once more to press his lips to Elidibus’s neck; when he chuckles, the sound buzzes against his skin. “How unlike you…” His mouth travels down by slow degrees, moving over the collarbone, but he straightens before reaching the nipple. “Though I cannot say it is not flattering.” Smirking, he relents, hands sliding up until they reach those nipples, thumbing them lightly. The hitch in the breathing, the way Elidibus’s lips part at the contact, is too much; with a soft hungry sound he leans close for another kiss.

Once again the change of angle creates delicious friction between their hips; caught as victim to pleasure as Elidibus, he groans into that hot mouth, licking in with needy demand as he moves his pelvis once more, craving the feeling of his lover’s desire pressed to his. Heat builds between them as he plucks both at Elidibus’s rapidly pebbling buds and at his lips; heat as well between their souls, where he continues to wind slowly tighter, higher, around that vast, unsundered soul.

For long moments he is lost in the sensation, the _taste_ of Elidibus; when he finally draws back his chest heaves in unsteady breaths. He bends his back to press those lips - still swollen and damp from their kiss - now to Elidibus’s chest, seeking toward one nipple.

  
  
  
  


Pale eyes are glassy as they look up at Nabriales, Elidibus caught in the vise of physical pleasure, yet his focus is turned inward. Never before had he undergone such an experience; for one who is sundered to attempt to _contain_ him as his lover does. The process is slow, careful, and Nabriales is unimpeded by the obstacle that is his soul's unbroken nature. With a flutter of lashes his eyes squeeze shut; he cannot help but savor the feeling, basking in the constriction as the other Ascian binds him more and more closely.

A soft sound slips from his lips, a sigh.

Then that wet, hot mouth closes over his nipple and his hips jolt upwards, grinding against the arousal he can feel in Nabriales's clothing with a wanton cry. The other man's name slips from his lips like sin dripping from his tongue, and his body shudders in restraint. He must not do what he desires, must not surge upwards with body and soul, must not strain himself. But oh, how he _wants._

The relentless stimulation of fingers and lips and tongue upon his chest drives him to breathe that name _again,_ fingers clutching blindly.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales’s lips falter in their ministrations at the sound of his name, at the sensation of Elidibus - wanting, needing, _craving_ \- fighting not to strain himself. A soft sound escapes his lips where they yet press as Elidibus reaches for him, grasping fingers echoing the need within. A tremor wracks Nabriales, and for a moment beyond it he is still. It is a few breaths before he recovers enough to move once more, to again attend to Elidibus’s needy flesh. His tongue rasps once, twice more over the skin beneath his lips, then he raises his head. His eyes smoulder as they seek the Emissary’s.

“One would nearly think you wished me to _rush_ this, by your reactions.” He smirks. “Does duty press so? I rather thought we had time a-plenty…” Within, his soul reaches as far as it can, spread to extension in its efforts to fully engulf Elidibus; he feels the great reservoirs within him, the glimmering darkness, bound and wound, and he caresses his lover’s soul in dark-burning satisfaction.

Still grinning, he braces a hand to either side of Elidibus, rising up to slide down his form. He grunts at the loss of pressure upon his groin, his mouth landing upon Elidibus’s chest once more, kisses trailing a line ever downward. One hand gropes on ahead to find Elidibus’s length, sliding atop the cloth of his pants to return the pressure he so unkindly stole away.

“Nay,” he murmurs, seemingly to himself. “Such a bounty should instead be savored…” He kisses his way down ridged muscle, head near spinning from the scent, the _taste_ of the skin beneath his mouth, pausing only once he reaches the waistband of Elidibus’s pants.

  
  
  
  


Bereft of their placement upon Nabriales's skin, Elidibus's hands instead fall to the bedding and grip the fabric tightly. That smaller soul fair _sears_ where it caresses against the dark abyss of his own. What escapes his lips at the feeling is not a whine, nor is it a call. It is a whisper of polyphonic voice, a litany of _praise_ that threads through the air around them. He can feel the way the words affect Nabriales, the _sound_ of his voice alone drawing forth a desired response.

And so it is with trembling body that his lover's name rings forth in those ancient tones; each muscle taut with restraint, holding himself back because though he wants so desperately he _needs_ this slow pleasure more. "Savor if you wish, I see no detriment in such a thing." His voice is a choir, yet the words exalt only Nabriales.

White lashes ease open and he looks down to meet glowing ochre, his gaze liquid moonlight as it pierces to the heart of the man he loves.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales’s breath hitches and his fingers tense as that lovely voice swells into a multiplicity, singing his praises and his name with the same glory, the same beauty. His soul clings yet further to Elidibus, needy, throughout the cherished sound. He, too, feels the push-and-pull within, the hunger for more as it grapples with the surety that a slower pace will pay in greater pleasure. And the Emissary’s permission - the generous welcome, to savor, to take his time - brings his head up to meet Elidibus’s gaze.

His eyes are luminescent in the dark room, his gaze warm and hungry. With his face bared, all that pale skin shows off his flushed state, vermillion brushed over the canvas of his cheeks and chest. Love and desire are writ upon his face, the clutch of his hands upon the bed, the expectant tension in the flesh beneath Nabriales’s hands. It is too much; his eyes roll upward as they flutter shut, and he buries his face against Elidibus’s hip, shuddering.

A few breaths are needed to fumble after the reins of self-control, and when he raises his head once more, his eyes are _burning._ Greedy fingers hook on the last of Elidibus’s clothing, and he begins drawing the trousers down. The motion is slow, almost agonizingly so, and he bends to lave kisses in the wake, trailing slowly down one leg, murmuring as the muscles tense beneath his lips. He lingers at the ankle as he frees each foot from the cloth, raising his gaze to admire the sight of his lover, now fully nude. He sheds his own robe and underlayers with much less ceremony and begins to kiss his way up the other leg, unwilling to neglect it - and keen to draw this out.

Finally his lascivious progress brings him once more to the juncture of Elidibus’s thighs. There he pauses, closing his eyes - he fully recognizes he has no chance of attaining the necessary concentration with that gorgeous sight before him. A moment of focus later, a vial drops into his hand. His fist closes around it as he again feasts his gaze upon Elidibus. Lowering himself to elbows, he bends his neck to take the flushed head of Elidibus’s length between his lips.

  
  
  
  


So distracted is Elidibus by the worship heaped upon his physical form that he scarce feels the fabric leave him. Only the air upon newly exposed skin distantly reminds him of his state of undress, but by the time Nabriales drops the cloth to the floor the Emissary's eyes have squeezed shut again. Ilm by agonizing, _glorious_ ilm are his limbs mapped by the gentle touch of lips. A brief thought sparks from him, an answering flare from the smaller soul binding his, that he could not recall such attentions having _ever_ been given to him. 

Not like this.

He misses the vial entirely, but it would be impossible to miss the sudden wet heat that closes over the tip of his arousal. Despite Nabriales's slow progression, he is somehow caught off guard. Fingers fist into the bedding, grasping so tight as to whiten his knuckles, and his head falls back to the pillow with a choric cry. He does not thrust upwards, muscles in his thighs and abdomen violently quivering with a massive effort of restraint.

But his _soul_ thrashes. Such storied stoicism only goes so far, and the pale man had long surpassed his limit. The need of his lover is almost palpable - can he taste it? It feels as if he _must_ \- and though he must not reach he instead pulls. That smaller soul is impossibly spread just that amount further, coaxed as Elidibus calls to his own power dwelling within the other. Wild motions still as within he feels utter _satisfaction,_ now completely encased in his lover's being; his own energy inlaid upon the surface as a shimmering filigree. Elidibus is struck by the beauty of it, and despite the pleasure coursing through his veins his breath stutters for a few moments at the vision.

A name, again, slips from him. His voice still calls forth as many, but runs taut, runs hoarse. "Such beauty, Nabriales. You glimmer in the dark."

  
  
  
  


Nabriales groans as Elidibus draws him further around his soul. Now completely surrounding his love, he clings closer in trembling pleasure, fed - gorged - on love… on desire. The praise that falls from Elidibus’s lips also makes him tremble and turn his eyes inward to likewise admire the interplay of their souls.

Wound around Elidibus as he is, he is a veil, a glittering cocoon, caressing every part he can reach… and spread to such an extension about Elidibus’s vastness, he reaches _far._ His grasp makes a constant twisting pattern as he _writhes_ in sinuous repetitions, always caressing, always moving over that vast ocean, drawn up as a drop of water.

He would give Elidibus no chance, no excuse, to extend himself.

With a shuddering breath he reopens his eyes. His lips still encircle Elidibus’s tip, and with the return of his attention, he brings his tongue up in a sweet stroke along its bottom. He pops the cork of the vial in his hand, splashing oil blindly onto his fingers. Slowly he works his mouth, drawing and releasing suction, as his fingers find and explore Elidibus’s rear, probing along his cleft. When he finds his entrance, though, he does not press in, instead teasing rings around the opening without delving in.

Almost lost to need, he still strains to draw this out.

  
  
  
  


The combination of working mouth and teasing fingers rips the tentative vestiges of willpower from the Emissary's trembling grasp. Such fluid motions pulled over his soul feel as heated satin, fibers ensnaring every tendril that reaches to increase their contact. Need is a wave sweeping through them _both,_ and no longer does Elidibus remain still as the other man tends to him. 

One hand retains its grip upon the bedding, but the other buries itself into Nabriales's hair, fisting _tight._ Upon the next release of suction he surges upwards and thrusts deep, almost hilting himself in the other man's mouth - moan breaking into guttural sounds of satisfaction at the heat now enveloping his length. Hand keeping a tight hold upon his lover's head, he draws back and thrusts upwards once, twice.

If Nabriales would tease his entrance, he would take pleasure via other means.

  
  
  
  


Plans, inclinations, rational thought itself evaporates as though it had never been. Nabriales groans blindly, so abruptly _full_ of Elidibus’s need that naught else exists. His finger slides, instinctive, pressing in to feel Elidibus from the inside, to prepare him, to _ravish_ him. Blindly his finger curls, the motion deeper each time, exploring as he finally recovers enough to resume his rhythmic suction.

Elidibus’s hand upon his head, the soft noises that pleasure pulls from his throat, the way his hips flex and quiver - it all combines to sing sweetly of his need. For a dim moment Nabriales is lost to wonder that it is _he_ of all possibilities who holds this power over the Emissary. Within, his soul trembles about Elidibus, overwhelmed; love, adoration, _need_ bleed through everywhere their souls are in contact.

Whether the Emissary truly _lost_ control, or whether he _chose_ to give it up in the knowledge that Nabriales could hold him, could _take_ him - well, it hardly mattered. It will be his pleasure to bring the fulfillment Elidibus craves so.

Within the Emissary’s grasp, he begins to move his head in time with his suckling, heedless of the slight pull upon his scalp. When he withdraws his hand to slip a second finger in beside the first, he syncs that motion with his pulls, pressing now _deliberately_ down upon his prostate.

Far be it from him to leave his lover in a state of unsated _need._

  
  
  
  


Satisfaction snaps in half and turns to _desperation_ as Nabriales slips a finger inside of Elidibus, but it does not give him the relief he craves. No, as pleasant a feeling as being prepared was, he craved that deep spike of pleasure which his lover seemed to so ardently avoid providing. Even the pressure upon the other man's skull was not enough to persuade him to greater speed, and torn the Emissary is between half-thrusts into that busy mouth and pressing down to drive that probing finger deeper still.

Without shame the pale man is, seeking the edge that he chases; for he _is_ lost, that galactic soul rippling within itself, pressing against the wrap of the Majestic and handing himself over in full. Just in time for a shard of thought to be shared, to strike Elidibus down to his heart, and that second finger slides next to the first and finally - oh, by the _dark_ \- gives him exactly what he seeks.

That great soul **unravels.**

Contained as the Unsundered is, Nabriales is primed to view how threads fray and explode into individual strings, a detonation deep within to shatter weave into base parts with a supernova of ecstasy. What could have been a name once is drowned by the groaning cry punched from gasping lungs, every muscle going taut as Elidibus empties himself into Nabriales's mouth. Tremoring aftershocks ripple through flesh and soul alike, and his hand drops from hair to paw blindly at his lover. 

In the aftermath, pale eyes look down to find umber, hazy and almost dazed.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales had thought himself prepared for Elidibus to fall apart. As the Emissary unravels, strands of self unspooling and writhing against his own soul - and _how_ that pleasure is transmitted, plucking at every fiber of Nabriales, wrapped around as he is - he strains to hold that vastness. Though it be more than he anticipated, more than he is certain he can manage, he _will_ not let even an onze of his lover’s pleasure slip by him.

He swallows hungrily, mouth convulsing about Elidibus as warmth jets out, savoring his lover’s taste and abject state both. He continues to milk him as hands rove desperately over him, his motions slowing to bring Elidibus back down gently. Slowly he raises his head, letting Elidibus slip free, to grin up at the Ascian laid out before him.

Elidibus is a glorious sight; pale hair halos his head from his thrashing and twisting. His face is flushed, red washing down his body to highlight the pale stretch of his chest. His lips are parted about panting breaths; as Nabriales admires him, those lovely eyes ease open. He meets that gaze, bleary as it is with bliss, and his soul wraps a fraction tighter about his love at the sight. Within, he continues to caress that vast inky ocean wherever they touch.

“Ah… such a sight, my love.” Slowly he begins the motions of his hand once more, working relaxation into the tight aperture. He bends his head, kissing Elidibus just below the navel, then slowly begins to work his way upward, over the ridged abdominals, gradually up to the ribs. His breath feathers hot over Elidibus’s skin as he moves, soft hums of pleasure and satisfaction punctuating his slow progress. He shifts to the side to accommodate his arm’s position as he ascends, pausing to suckle upon a nipple for a moment before raising his head.

“And how are you feeling, mmm? Up for a _bit_ more excitement yet?”

  
  
  
  


The pleasure of kisses and the continued work of fingers inside of Elidibus is by far less intense than even the aftershocks which still tremble through his frame. Instinctively his hips cant upwards to allow easier access for deft motions. Despite the breathless haze that still fogs his senses, that cheeky question comes across quite clearly.

Lips pull into a free smile, crooked, so much like that of Nabriales on the Emissary's face. "My wellbeing remains in a dire state, but perhaps my salvation could be achieved should my lover bring his desires to bear. It is almost as if he thinks me _sated_ so."

Still unraveled, still contained, his vast soul snatches all he may reach of the other Ascian and pulls him closer to press _need_ core-deep.

  
  
  
  


Dire? _Dire?_ Nabriales’s eyes narrow at his lover’s teasing. Perhaps their association has caused his own playful demeanor to rub off on the Emissary. Or perhaps some measure of the personality his lover has long held private finally feels free to come to the fore. Either way, a challenge issued unto the Majestic is a challenge accepted, and he does not for a moment doubt that Elidibus knows this.

He would show Elidibus _satiety._

He shifts, bending close to taste the impish grin on Elidibus’s lips. Groaning as the assault upon his soul mingles with the taste of the other Ascian’s skin to drive him near mad, he spends a moment savoring it before drawing back with a smirk of his own. “You would feel the force of my _desire,_ then, love? Very well.”

His fingers, still plunging rhymically into Elidibus, abruptly withdraw; his own aching erection is tended to hastily, the remainder of the oil quickly applied and spread within a few strokes. The pleasure of the motion is naught beside the anticipation that flares from neuron to neuron, spreading throughout him. His hands are greedy where they snatch at Elidibus, positioning him, shifting him until the head of his shaft comes to rest against that slicked entrance.

The temptation to _take_ rises and ebbs, and when he presses in he is once again gentle, coaxing his way into Elidibus’s tight _heat._ He cannot keep his head from falling at the sensation, as though puppet strings have been cut. But he is yet determined to draw this out. Heaving a deep breath, he raises burning eyes to find Elidibus’s gaze, hands still clenched hard upon his thighs.

“Is this what you seek, then?” One hand looses its grip, creeping down the smooth skin of that thigh toward the juncture of Elidibus’s legs.

  
  
  
  


The withdrawal of fingers is felt keenly, such thorough preparation leaving Elidibus feeling empty. It would not last, heavy lidded gaze watching Nabriales slicking himself up with renewed desire smoldering within. He feels the anticipation of the other man keenly, that control barely holding on. Such a thing is _admirable,_ particularly for Nabriales, and it shows exactly how much care the other man was taking with him. Warmth that has nothing to do with desire wells up and spills over.

Willingly he moves as his lover wants until the air goes taut with tension, tip probing his opening. He does not begrudge Nabriales for taking a few moments before pressing in, but when he does Elidibus lets his head fall back at the stretch. It was not uncomfortable with the loving preparation he had received; how many years had it been, though, since one had taken him thusly?

Lashes lift to see the way his lover's head falls and though the other man is determined to continue his _teasing,_ he would not be allowed to do so freely. 

"No more than you seek a mere dalliance," he counters. The anticipation makes his words breathy, but despite this he manages the intended mischief, sharp and sly. In a sudden movement he lifts his legs to wrap around the other man, ankles firmly hooking behind Nabriales's backside. Simultaneously Elidibus pulls the taller man in while bucking upward with his hips, driving his length well over halfway inside with the motion.

A low groan stutters free as he adjusts, smiling predatorily up at his lover.

  
  
  
  


For a breath there is naught but _friction,_ _warmth,_ and exquisite _tightness_ as Elidibus demands what Nabriales would mete out only slowly. A groan breaks free as he moves, drawn inexorably forward in response. He drives in further in his frenzy; his questing hand seizes upon Elidibus’s own length in a firm grip as he bends low. His mouth fair crashes down onto the Emissary’s, devouring with intent.

Slowly sense creeps back; needy thrusts have brought him now fully within Elidibus, and he moves back and forth in his desperate quest for pleasure. His hand, too, has begun to move in an unconscious rhythm, pumping his lover in slow but firm strokes. Elidibus’s feet, still hooked about him, spur him onward when he would de-escalate; with each thrust he can feel the calves tense about his hips.

Paired with the need burning through his lover’s veins, his lover’s _soul,_ his own desire is too wild to be bridled.

Still determined to see Elidibus to repletion, he moves his wrist in gradually faster surges, thumb caressing the head to smear beads of pre down and along the shaft. His lips caress, now, gentle by contrast with his escalating thrusts, the hastening pace of his strokes. A faint pang goes through him as necessity forces him to release the kiss.

He presses his face, gasping needful for air, against the crook of Elidibus’s shoulder. His free hand gropes upward to find his jaw, to cradle gently his lover’s face, the thumb stroking over his lips since his own are busied both in catching some semblance of breath and in exploring the corded muscle of Elidibus’s neck. Within, his soul ignites, wonder at the love he has found swirling about desire, about need, in a winding helix.

With the last straining gasps of control, he twines them closer together.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales is furious motion above Elidibus, the two of them drawn ever closer, those lines between individual souls blurred to be unrecognizable. They burn with dark flame, the two of them, embers jumping from sundered to he of complete soul and searing them both in ebony waves. Elidibus leans the side of his head against tousled locks, trapping jeweled earring between them and _pressing._

The physical symbol of their bond is solid, hard, undeniable proof of what they have done, what they have _chosen._ With the next sweep of thumb over kiss-swollen lips the Emissary parts them, drawing the digit inside. Laving over skin for the length of a single thrust, Elidibus seals his lips and _sucks._

But he can feel the last vestiges of Nabriales's control slipping away, and the idea of breaking those binds is _intoxicating._ The furious strokes upon his own member spur him on - his body quickening once more, but he has enough focus for this, at least. Removing the thumb from his mouth he begins to speak in that many-voiced tone.

"When you have finished with me, I want all to know with a mere glance what we have done here." The words end in a low moan, rough with pleasure, dripping with sin and filth. Nabriales's name is gasped into his hair as Elidibus bucks his hips upwards to meet each thrust, pulling his lover deeper with the press of heels. "Lay claim to me as you have always wished."

Hands clutch at the other Ascian's back and Elidibus opens himself wide for Nabriales to **take.**

  
  
  
  


Nabriales trembles beneath the force of Elidibus’s entreaty.

Myriad sensations combine in a swirling storm, a symphony of desire, sending him ever higher - the fire, soul-deep, a growing conflagration fed by two becoming one; the cool press of crystal, bridging from skin to skin; the warmth and suck of lips about his thumb… and then that voice.

That exquisite, finely wrought _voice,_ a siren call tempting him to send his vessel crashing upon the rocks. But these rocks are in truth but pleasure and love, his ship, his body, desperate to be dashed upon Elidibus’s own. And so his thrusts reach fever-pitch, soft and needy gasps ghosting over Elidibus’s skin from where his head presses close. His hand grasps his lover’s sweet length still, intent upon wringing ecstasy from him. And within their souls, he seizes on, spurred by Elidibus’s demands. Polyphonic song still ringing both in his ears and soul, he delves deeper, seeking a deep merging...

And Nabriales _claims._

Throwing wide his soul, he paints his very essence upon Elidibus’s inner self, like dark and variegated swirls of ink, marking, staining, _claiming,_ spiraling and feathering out as control slips, as his body falters and convulses. He brings the final vestige, the final shard of control left him to bear, dragging Elidibus, ready or not, along with his own peak. His head pitches back, voice lifting, and though the cry bears no words yet it is filled with meaning, singing _love, devotion,_ and _need_ in a language as ancient as souls.

Senseless in ecstasy, he fills Elidibus with _him,_ a mark that will be plain for all to see upon the Emissary’s soul.

  
  
  
  


There is a brief moment of vicious _satisfaction_ as Nabriales falls apart, his control scattered as he indeed _claims._ But Elidibus too is swept along, the feel of the tapestry of his soul achieving new color - permanently dyed - a sensation beyond words, beyond _feel._ He throws his head back against the pillow before the crest of physical pleasure reaches him, face contorted by ecstasy, so taken is he by the marking. Broken sounds wring from his throat, pitching upwards to match his lover in song.

Even as he is colored anew, however, so too is Nabriales. The sundered soul dips into the deepest center of the Emissary, emerging with newly-glittering edges. Curls of sparkling moondust trace his essence now, just as those silky ink swirls weave throughout Elidibus; a mark for them both to share of one another forevermore.

The wave of delight at such a glimpse is cut short when suddenly Elidibus finds his body tensing. Every muscle coiled taut as euphoria drags him under, legs squeezing his lover tight, _tighter_ as he feels himself being filled. Shaking arms clutch as his cock pulses in that firm grasp, spilling onto long fingers and painting his stomach with spent seed. For a second time he flies apart, but he does not fear, not with Nabriales there, entwined with him, as _one_ with him indeed as the line between individuals is wiped away.

Their duet echoes in the small space of the room, threads of two souls made one.

  
  
  
  


It is a gradual thing, sweet, as Nabriales recovers, pleasure giving way by slow turns for the resurgence of rational thought. He lies slumped, limp upon Elidibus’s frame, and at this realization his shoulders swell in a deep, contented breath. Hands release their death-grips, fingers shaky until stretched; they brace upon the bed at either side of Elidibus’s waist to gently raise him up.

His lover is spread beneath him, fully limp; locks of sweat-clumped hair scatter in rays and tangles upon the pillow. One clings to the side of his face in a short and twisted line, bringing a smile to Nabriales’s lips. He spends a moment to study Elidibus’s relaxed state and is pleased by what he sees.

There is the softest sound of protest as space comes between them, unwelcome cool air upon Elidibus’s skin rather than his own warmth; the Emissary’s hands tighten fractionally, as though to pull him back down. Smiling, he bends his head, pressing a weary kiss to the cherished lips as he withdraws from the tight warmth still enveloping him. He locks his arms around Elidibus as he drops to the side, lips bumping together harder at the jostling motion. With a chuckle he gives up on the kiss, tucking Elidibus against his chest, an arm shifting to lie beneath his lover’s neck and draw him close. It winds down his back to enfold him, skin pressed to skin, as much as he can—legs twining, one between, one over his lover’s, wrapped around.

His other arm moves from its hold upon Elidibus, turning to exploration in gentle caresses. First he reaches to the earring, loving fingertips catching and _feeling_ it, savoring the reminder. Slowly he works all down and up Elidibus’s body, everywhere he can reach, just touching, gentle but possessive. A yawn cracks his jaw, and he lets his eyes fall closed, fingers still brushing gentle arcs upon the muscle of Elidibus’s back as weariness reaches up to engulf him.

  
  
  
  


Afterglow descends thickly over all that Elidibus is, sluggish movements helping Nabriales in positioning the two of them. He ducks his head to slip beneath the taller man's chin, soft murmurs and sounds of blissful comfort at the feel of roaming touch. Exhaustion weighs upon him, causing heavy lids to fall shut and - with a deep, content sigh - the Emissary melts almost bonelessly against his lover. What little energy he had recovered has been thoroughly spent.

And so he does not fight as sleep crawls slowly over his consciousness. He is wrapped in the warmth and touch of one he loves, they are both safe, and oh, how his healing soul saps his strength. Still, he manages a soft kiss to the collarbones in front of him, a barest flutter of lips, mouthing that given name against tender flesh.

Sleep takes him just as he whispers his love, soul blanketing the other Ascian in peaceful rest.

  
  
  
  


Love is the blanket that swaths Nabriales as he sleeps. Rest is less a requirement and more an indulgence for him, his wounds healed but for the faintest traces. Nevertheless it is pleasant, for even in sleep he can feel Elidibus’s soul, twined so closely together with his own. Waking is similarly pleasant, for every step of the process bears Elidibus’s mark - from the feel of soul against soul, to the pervasive warmth of a body against his own, the scent, the sight…

The feel, as he bends his smiling head to lay a tender kiss upon the tousled hair. Shifting reveals the delightful mess they had made of one another, now dried to a patina that tugs at his skin. A murmured spell skitters down their forms, ushering the grime to oblivion and, for good measure, straightening out the pale locks of Elidibus’s hair. He runs his fingers through their now-silken length, again and again, savoring the way they slip and catch about his fingers, playful.

For a time, this is enough.

  
  
  
  


A soft sound signals the Emissary's rise into consciousness, the pleasant tug of scalp as fingers pull through hair a gentle guide to wakefulness. Warmth surrounds Elidibus; Nabriales wrapped around his body, soul woven over his even now, and he settles more snugly into the embrace they share. A slight shift has their bodies slotting more smoothly together and the shorter man nuzzling against the collar in front of him.

With a sigh, breath tickling over exposed skin, Elidibus places the softest of kisses there. It is followed by Nabriales's name, chased ever so sweetly by words of love.

The unsundered man looks at where they are still tangled together, and smiles. "You are beautiful with my gilt upon your soul."

  
  
  
  


The motions of fingers carding through hair continues as Nabriales feels Elidibus stir, press closer. He smiles, warmed by a soft kiss, a soft whisper of his truest name. The declaration to follow brings him to a complete halt.

The eyes of the soul turn inward and he looks now upon himself. Their souls yet bear the marks, indelible or nigh unto it, they left upon one another in their ardor. His breath catches, stills, at the glimmer dusted over his being.

It is breathtaking.

For long seconds he just stares, admiring the soft-gleaming marks edging his soul's borders. To see Elidibus upon him this way moves his heart to nigh overflow with amazement. It was not so long ago that he would have said these bonds were not meant for one such as himself. He has, he realizes, _never_ been so glad to be proven wrong.

"Indeed I do," he finally manages, "though I dare say even the drabbest mortal soul would look kingly limned in you, my love.” He drops a reverent kiss on Elidibus’s brow, lingering with a sigh before turning his gaze to the marks he placed upon his love. His brows rise as he realizes the _extent_ of his efforts.

None shall ever fail to realize the connection they have formed; indeed, he wonders if even the _ungifted_ might sense the claim he has laid, so demanding and plain it is. Apprehension rises at the sudden concern that it might be _too much, too obvious_ \- no subtle touch of gleam like Elidibus’s own claim, but rather bold sweeps of inky dark, as though brushed and swept into designs feather- and flower-like.

“And, ah, how do you like my own efforts?” Uncertain eyes rise to bore into Elidibus’s pale orbs with sudden fearful hope.

  
  
  
  
  


A hand creeps up between them to sweep a light caress of thumb over Nabriales's bottom lip, paired with a smile of elated satisfaction that graces Elidibus’s face. "They are bold, much like the man who placed them."

With a casual cupping of his lover's cheek, he tilts his head to press an achingly sweet kiss to those parted lips. Elidibus is no stranger to what Nabriales feels, that worming doubt of action in relation to another. Perhaps he, too, would feel it if not for how tightly pressed they were, how matched their tapestry had become.

"I would have naught else but what you have wrought, for they are _yours,_ my love. And they are stunning." Fingers move from cheek to forehead, brushing aside encroaching strands of brunet hair. "They are you, and so I shall bear them with pride. Yes, stunning, much like you." The gaze is met, held, sincerity told true in pale eyes.

  
  
  
  


Elidibus’s words have Nabriales’s eyes lingering once more upon the marks, considering them again now that the worry has abated.

“Hm… you are, as usual, correct. For were I to mark you in a restrained or subtle way, others might find themselves doubting that the work was truly mine.” A teasing grin breaks free, his joy no longer tarnished, and he shifts, bending lower to capture Elidibus’s lips with his own. Long seconds drip by, slow and viscous with delight, with the pure bliss of love. When he draws back, it is to gaze once more into Elidibus’s eyes; a warm, teasing light sparkles in the cinnamon depths. “Now, how _are_ you feeling after this rest? There is always work to be done, of course, but your health comes first.”

  
  
  
  


Pale eyes blink slowly as Elidibus weighs the state of his being. He tests the fabric, the stitches sewn by Lahabrea, and finds to his relief no discomfort upon stretching himself.

"I find myself much restored." A smile plays across his lips, amusement alighting in his gaze. "So eager you must be, to embark upon your new role."

  
  
  
  


Nabriales draws up slightly at Elidibus’s playful teasing. “Yes, well! It is a rather _essential_ posting, if I may say so. To guard the Emissary’s _body…”_ His eyes lower to rake appreciatively over his lover’s form. “A most solemn duty indeed.” Another stolen kiss, brief but heated, and then he draws back with a sigh.

“On a more serious note, though, I believe you must soon go to wake Emet-Selch, is this not so?” A grimace, quickly suppressed, crosses his face. “You will have Lahabrea for that undertaking. Will you wish me also to come?” Within the connection of their souls, it is plain that while he would not _relish_ such a thing, yet he is willing to set aside his inclination in deference to Elidibus’s wishes.

  
  
  
  


A chuckle vibrates from Elidibus’s chest to that of Nabriales, the reaction to his words sparking warmth from within just as the kiss warms his lips. The further questioning has the Emissary take a moment of consideration. First, a smile. "Not just a guard, but to act as a working pair. Two hands where one may yet falter." A hand trails down the skin of the other Ascian's chest, dropping free languidly. "Do not forget my presence as well; we are to aid one another, whatever that should entail."

A quirk of lips tug upwards at the evident distaste Nabriales holds for their slumbering companion. "When duty and my recovery permits, he shall be roused." Amusement creases the corners of Elidibus’s eyes, knowing how his lover and Emet-Selch were prone to squabble. "You are welcome to attend, but I will not require it of you."

  
  
  
  


A sigh falls through warmly curved lips, Nabriales’s relief audible. “Not that he isn’t an absolute _delight,_ of course, but he will have _questions_ about those lovely marks, not to mention the aether and the earring, and he will heed you if you request he mind his own business where he likely would _not_ do so with me.” He stretches, limbs going straight for a moment before his arm curves slyly about Elidibus. “At any rate, I am most flattered to be considered a full _partner_ in our endeavors. Does this mean you will be guarding _my_ body as well?” A saucy wink punctuates the playful line.

  
  
  
  


A single brow rises at the salacious behavior, but Elidibus is unable to hold back the smile from showing through. "Was there ever a doubt that you would be my equal?" The words are teasing, but the tone is sweet. "But yes, should we require it, I shall protect your body, amongst other things." His voice quiets slightly, solemnity bleeding into the words. "I have done so once, and if it is necessary I shall do so once again. We stand firm, together, and none will best us."

A sigh, gentle, as the Emissary settles into his lover's arm, the seriousness easing from his face. "When it comes time to rouse Emet-Selch from slumber I will explain the whole of our bond, should he ask." A pause, hesitant and considering. "Unless you wish me not to speak of it."

  
  
  
  


Nabriales chuckles by way of response. “If you have the patience for it, then by all means feel free! Mayhap he can restrain his snark in your presence. I have no objection to his _knowing,_ merely to the litany of questions and implications.” A soft snort slips free. “After all, even if I weren’t more than happy to parade my claim upon you, he would have to be blind to miss it.”

His eyes turn fondly once more upon his lover, one hand rising to slide up his side, from the arch of the hip over the soft skin of his flank, slowing to outline each rib. Before he can reach the sensitive flesh of the underarm, though, he lifts the hand to catch the earring dangling from Elidibus’s ear, softly cupping it to stroke it with his thumb. He bends once more, placing a last lingering kiss on Elidibus’s lips.

“Then let us begin our work as _equals,_ my love, and show the world how much stronger we are together.” By the warm smile upon his lips as he draws back, the euphoric joy bubbling within his soul, it is evident how the idea - the truth of their relationship, in all ways - has left him deeply touched.

  
  
  
  


Easy pleasure of the flesh is echoed by the slip of soul skimming where they are joined. Nabriales traces the designs left upon the Emissary, and as he does Elidibus sighs softly at the touch. The exhalation turns into words at the tug of his ear, their meaning swallowed by the tender touch of a kiss. When pale eyes ease open upon parting, they are warmed - thawed, almost. This, here, was more than Elidibus had allowed himself to dream of beyond his duty. But to have this, oh, to _find_ such a thing, for Nabriales to return such things-

The Majestic is not the only one to have been touched.

But duty calls at last as Elidibus sits upright. Beyond what recent intimacies they had indulged in, the Emissary finds his body much restored. There is no stiffness to his limbs, and beyond the slight soreness of activity he finds that pain no longer chases his movements. Beneath Nabriales's watchful gaze, he tests his true self, stretching out to curl about his lover in an exploration. When no discomfort arises, his smile grows - this time to one of _purpose._ Reaching over his taller lover, Nabriales's mask is plucked from where it sits upon the bedside table, and Elidibus traces the slits and points upon the face.

"Will you allow me this honor, Nabriales?" 

The intent is clear, ritual in each motion of fingers as the gift of a name chases title.

  
  
  
  


Relief swells warm in Nabriales’s breast to see Elidibus stretch without pain, without discomfort. For a moment he just twines tenderly with that soul, gladdened that they may once again do so freely. It is with curiosity, unforethought, that he watches Elidibus lift his mask… and then the offer strikes him speechless.

He pulls his gaping mouth shut after a moment, feeling heat blossom lightly on his cheeks, and clears his throat. And again. At first it is the true name that emerges, before he recalls the rhythm of the ritual. “Elidibus… nothing would give me more pleasure.”

The trembling significance of what he has been offered jolts through him, and he sits up, folding his legs beneath him and bowing his head to bring it within easy reach of Elidibus. A deep and shuddering breath helps to center him, and for a moment he closes his eyes. When they open once more, they spill with love, with devotion, with admiration, and he smiles.

  
  
  
  


Emotions are returned as cinnamon meets silvery pale, and it is with a regal air that the mask of his station is fitted to Nabriales's face. Fingers sweep short brown hair from beneath and with a touch of power comb through, lifting the fallen strands into that upswept signature style. Then, with a kiss placed to the brow of the mask, Elidibus begins to rove his hands over the body of the Majestic. Steady motions - not sensual, no, these are with the purpose of a _rite_.

Fingertips frame that smiling face, slipping over the back of Nabriales's head, and as they move shadows begin to coalesce. They soon take shape and form into a familiar cowl, mantle, adornments. Every plane of the Ascian is covered, roaming hands touching upon each limb, every digit individually.

At last, Nabriales is fully clothed in his attire once more, and with a wave of his hand Elidibus conjures his own robes of station onto his person. His mask, however, he holds but does not don.

"One last task I ask of you. One last honor, for us to walk in His Grace." Eyes serious but not solemn, he extends his hand, clawed fingers gingerly offering the beaked mask. Another gift, perhaps more weighty than all the rest.

  
  
  
  


To have his mask placed upon his face thus sends Nabriales’s memory spiraling back, to that first time, that precious moment when the world first fell into place for him, at the time of his uplifting. The shivery touch of Elidibus’s power over him as it forms into cloth, whispering fine over his skin, threatens to make Nabriales tremble, quake beneath the beauty, the _significance_ of it all. But his will rises iron-firm to hold himself still, to observe with solemnity the honor offered to him.

It is with pride that he finds himself fully garbed once more, warm in the knowledge of Elidibus’s fond regard and appreciation. There is no disappointment as his lover’s own body is once again clothed, either, for their work together is something he relishes, something he anticipates almost as much as the next time they might again seek pleasure in one another.

But Elidibus does not place his mask upon his face. Instead he turns to Nabriales. Extends it. Offers it, alongside words that make his heart skip a beat.

For a moment Nabriales cannot move, cannot breathe, can barely process the honor offered to him. It is with trembling fingertips that he finally reaches to take the mask, with hoarse voice that he finally speaks.

“It would be my pleasure.”

A deep breath serves to steady him, and he reaches out, placing the mask upon Elidibus’s face with tender care. His hands rise, gently gathering and bunching Elidibus’s fair locks, binding them at the nape of his neck and tucking free strands behind his ears. Gently he raises the hood, settling it carefully into place. He leans close, placing a kiss upon Elidibus’s lips - solemn, reverent, and joyous - before drawing back with a sigh and a smile.

“Let us go _together_ in His grace.”

  
  
  
  


Together they rise, and Elidibus reaches hands out for Nabriales to take. Smiling, their fingers interlaced, the Emissary and the Majestic do not untangle themselves fully. No, while the depth is reduced, that utter intimacy unwoven as the fabric of their souls shift, glimmering, into individuality once more; they remain linked almost casually, the two men so used to the feeling that to part would distract.

For the time being, at least.

A brief nod is exchanged, and shadows spiral out to engulf them both, taking Nabriales and Elidibus to the first step of their assignment. The room is left empty, smelling of _them._

  
  
  


.

.

  
  
  


Nabriales feels himself nearly a string-cut puppet as the Archbishop of Ishgard finally waves his hand, dismissing the pair of Ascians before him. He awkwardly mimics Elidibus’s faint bow, but when the other would send them through the rift, he stops him with a gentle hand upon his arm. Elidibus may be recovered, but Zodiark Himself would have been wearied by the conversation-cum-duel the Emissary has just weathered.

Fortunately Elidibus concedes with a smile, letting Nabriales take control of their teleportation. Moments later they land in a private room of their stronghold. The swell of relief finally fills him fully, and his shoulders lift and then drop in a deep sigh.

“I am unspeakably thankful that I did not need to do more than be present for that exchange. How _do_ you manage that on a regular basis?” He turns a growing grin upon the Emissary. “I must say, I have discovered a newfound admiration for your skill with words. What was it you told him? ‘With your ascension it is but a matter of time; your Majesty shall see the broken crown mended.’ Your tongue is truly a double-edged sword.”

  
  
  
  


A smile curves the Emissary's lips upwards, satisfied and _sharp._ However, despite his pleased expression, he too cannot help but sigh; the long exhale unspooling the iron thread of tension that bound his shoulders and spine. Nabriales can plainly see the same clever, silver-tongued diplomat upon the other man, though now in seclusion it is as though a mask has been removed. 

"Never wonder how it was I earned my seat upon the Convocation, dear Majestic." There is a slight emphasis on the title, a hint of amusement in the words. "Did I speak aught but truth? Shrewd though he may be, the Archbishop is as narrow-minded as the rest. He hears the truth he wishes, not what is presented to him."

A pause, as Elidibus appears to think for a moment. "Though despite how taxing he may be, you did well for being in the same room as him - and for so long, besides." The smile turns into a grin as he speaks.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales chuckles. “Well, I would not have you regret your choice of partner in your ventures. Indeed, I should have thought myself entirely unsuited to this had I not felt your own cunningly suppressed irritation with the man.” Annoyance and contempt twists his lip. “It is fortunate indeed for him that he is necessary for our plans. Do not think I will permit the rank and file to speak to you so.”

It is the span of a breath, no more, Nabriales swiftly closing the gap between them. A smile grows in that brief moment, warming what of his visage can be seen below the mask; the same warmth echoes where their souls touch and cling together. “Indeed, it is nigh egregious how he fails to see the precious value of each word you speak. Not to fear, though…” Gentle fingers tip Elidibus’s face up, turn it to the side as his own face angles the other way. “I, at the least, cherish your honeyed lips.” Careful of masks, he presses a soft kiss over Elidibus’s mouth, lingering, soul twining and pressing close for a breathless moment. When he draws back, his sigh is mingled pleasure and disappointment.

“But alas, duty calls for now. Onward, I suppose?”

  
  
  
  


Elidibus does not answer the question, leaning in to chase those lips and catch them in another kiss before Nabriales may pull further away. He nips at the taller man's lower one, tracing a heated line with his tongue before stepping back with pale eyes _gleaming_ beneath his mask. The promise of retribution, of coming to his defense - however unwarranted, unrequired, it was part and parcel of his duty - lit a spark within, and the compliment that had followed only served to sear color onto his cheeks.

But duty _does_ call, despite his blush and racing heart. "Just so, onward it is."

A portal opens behind him, leading to their next task. But before he steps through there is a curling where they are entwined. Elidibus reaches within Nabriales and stokes the smoldering embers of desire and fans them into flame, pressing flashes of flickering images; exactly what he could do with those lips the man so adored. His smile widens into a mischievous grin for an instant before smoothing into his usual even composure.

And he takes a step back, vanishing through the portal.

  
  
  
  


Nabriales stands frozen to a statue as he stares after Elidibus, his blood suddenly an inferno, racing through his body. Afterimages upon his soul, lust and desire made rich with love, thick and sweet. He snarls a soft curse as his body stirs, reacting to Elidibus’s own desire and the suggestions of what might be to come. For a moment he holds his position, uncertain of his physical form’s stability in this moment, but Elidibus’s soul upon his own is growing thin, and the portal continues to roil…

He sucks a deep breath, holding it and forcing himself to move. A hasty hand slid along his front adjusts himself to a more comfortable angle within his smallclothes, and once again the distance between himself and Elidibus shrinks as the portal seizes and catapults him to his destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fabric made beautiful.

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you've enjoyed yourself!


End file.
